Page 30 of All the Wandering Light

The shadows dissipated, as if the wards themselves had vanquished them, but Chirri knew better. It was not the first time the witches had come to Azmiri in recent days, nor would it be the last. But Lusha’s letter, carried by her exhausted raven, had given Chirri the warning she needed. Not five minutes after Elder had thrust it into her hand, Chirri had been at work, strengthening the wards surrounding the village, visiting each house and farm to teach their inhabitants a few basic incantations to defend against witch fire. She should have taken such precautions long ago, she knew. If she had been younger, with fewer aching bones, she might have done better. If she had been gifted with a halfway useful apprentice, who had not spent most days trying her patience. But “if” was the least practical word in existence, and Chirri quickly cast such thoughts aside.

Yet there was one “if” she could not overlook. The witches hadn’t attacked in great numbers, but in small parties more suited to a quick raid than a full-scale assault. What was holding them back? If they came to Azmiri in full force, Chirri would not be able to bar them. One of the emperor’s armies was on its way to the village, but would the soldiers arrive in time?

She rose, accompanying the movement with such a heartfelt flurry of curses that Small Nuisance flitted away in alarm. She wandered back to her hut, muttering to herself. Where she stopped.

Perched on an open windowsill was the fox.

“Hello, old one,” Chirri said. “Back again, are you? And what is it this time?”

Ragtooth bared his teeth. He was thinner than when Chirri had last seen him a few days ago, and his fur was matted. But his eyes were as bright as ever, a green glitter like the dew on spring leaves.

Chirri propped open the door of her hut and rummaged through the shelves. The last time, he had come for ruhanna bark, a potent painkiller—she hadn’t wanted to think too hard on the reasons for that.

Ragtooth stretched in a sunbeam. He sauntered to one of the cabinets at the back of the hut, where cobwebs hung thick in the shadows.

“Really?” Chirri followed with some trepidation. Small Nuisance’s light flickered against the cabinet, sending a few spiders scurrying away. Chirri tugged at the first drawer, which groaned open. It held several vials, some half-empty. Each contained a dark powder that sparkled like glass. A poison—but not one meant for humans or animals.

She settled a full vial on the floor. “This won’t stop them. Not now that they have their powers back.”

Ragtooth only gazed at her. Small Nuisance fluttered close, thinking to make a new friend. The fox snapped at his tail, sending the dragon scurrying behind her legs.

“You’d best be careful,” she said sternly. “Going back and forth like this—it will wear you down, even an old one like you.”

The fox took the vial in his jaws and slipped out the door. Chirri was tempted to go to the window to watch, to try to pinpoint the exact moment when he vanished, folding himself into a gap between mountain and sky. But it was a juvenile impulse, and the shaman quashed it.

What are those fool children up to?

Lusha and the others had been gone for weeks. The elder believed they were on their way home, but Chirri was less certain. It wasn’t just Ragtooth’s visits, or Yonden’s vague pronouncements. Chirri had no doubt that, given the opportunity, her bumbling apprentice would seize upon some new quest of great importance. But would it be a quest that helped the Empire, or caused even greater harm than what had already been unleashed?

Chirri adjusted her shawls and began making her way down to the village. She would visit the farmers, those whose fields were closest to the Amarin Valley, and task them with laying animal traps among their crops. Then she would speak with the elder and reassure him that, once again, the wards had held. They were holding—for now.

For now. Chirri squeezed her staff and continued on her slow, careful way.

Part II

The Ashes

Ten

MY HANDS ACHED with cold, and my arms shook, but I hauled myself onto the top of the boulder. There I lay on my back, unmoving.

My breath rose in clouds above me, muting the bright of the moon. The sun had set early—too early. We should have had another hour of daylight.

The twilight mountains. I tilted my head to look at them. They bristled out of the horizon like blades of darkness that sliced away the stars.

We had been traveling north for two days, over an increasingly barren landscape. Two days of marching late into the night, yet we still hadn’t reached the foothills of the Ashes. The problem was the terrain, which was stony and pitted and caked with frost, making for dangerous going with the yak. I was beginning to despair. We knew where the star had fallen—at least, Lusha swore she did—but could we reach it before River? Before a creature who could take any shape he chose?

I shoved the question from my mind, because it wasn’t a question. We had to reach the star before River did.

I forced myself to my feet, squinting into the darkness. I had left the others to set up camp for the night in order to scout the terrain. Nothing stirred among the shadows, either animal or witch. My heart sank—the landscape before us was even more rugged, strewn with boulders and gouged by glaciers that had once dragged themselves across the land. The earth was held together by ice—we had left behind trees and grass—but in places, hills sagged into loose debris that would be impossible for the yak to scale. I could see no clear path.

I examined my hands. The last finger of my left was an unhealthy white, and bending it was difficult. I cleared my mind and focused.

Warmth spread through my hand, as if I had doused it in a bath. The color returned to my skin, and my fingers felt limber again. I paused, waiting for the flash of pain to subside. As long as I restricted myself to small spells, it was bearable. Small magic had a small price.

I put my glove back on. I had made use of Azar-at’s magic several times since our battle with the fiangul, always for similarly small spells. Whenever I did, I took care to hide it from Tem and Lusha.

I pushed the guilt aside. I had promised Tem I wouldn’t use Azar-at’s magic, and for the most part, I had kept my word. I doubted that Tem would want me to develop frostbite.